


Trials

by Little_Neliel



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Eskel is a very handsome man, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Seriously this is nothing but self indulgent fluffy nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27565822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Neliel/pseuds/Little_Neliel
Summary: Eskel's been hiding his face since he got his scars.This is 5 times people told him he was still handsome, and one time he actually starts to believe it.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 40
Kudos: 144





	1. Triss

**Author's Note:**

> I'm ready to lay the blame for this at @vvithering's feet because of [this post.](https://twitter.com/vvitchering/status/1319796397361844224?s=19).
> 
> This is just an excuse to write a lot of Eskel fluff about people tucking his hair behind his ear and telling him he's very handsome.
> 
> This is not beta read, so if you see any glaring errors please let me know <3

It had been months since the incident that left Eskel with several disfiguring scars down his face. Scars that twisted his expression and left him with almost a permanent sneer. The scars still ached, but they were thankfully fading from the brilliant red of fresh wounds to something closer to his skin colour.

He’d been doing his best to keep to himself during the winter months, not wanting to subject his brothers to what he’d become.

A monster.

He’d heard Lambert chatting the other day with Geralt about how Triss was coming for a visit before they all headed out on the Path again. While he didn’t relish the idea of the beautiful sorceress seeing him like this, she might be the only one that could do something about it.

When Triss first arrived, he was in his room. He didn’t want to shock her right away, and decided it was best to let her spend some time with Lambert and Geralt before he tracked her down. He skipped out on dinner, too nervous to be in a room with everyone and still trying to decide the best way to bring this up to Triss.

The sun had set by the time he heard Triss heading to her room for the night. After a long trip, she was turning in early. Once he was sure one of his brothers wasn’t following her, he threw his cloak on, drawing up the hood, and headed out of his room and down the hall to where Triss normally stayed.

He knocked softly on the door, then stood back fidgeting as he waited for the sorceress to answer.

“Lambert, I told you…” she was saying as she opened the door, “Oh, Eskel!” she smiled, “I missed you at dinner.”

“Wasn’t hungry,” he murmured from under his hood, “Triss I....” he started, unsure of the best way to bring it up.

Triss stood back from the door, “Come in Eskel, you don’t need to stand in the hall.”

With a nod, he entered the room, gravitating to the darker shadows further from the fire that roared in the hearth. He sucked in a breath as the door closed and Triss walked over to stand in front of him. She didn’t say anything, just waited patiently as he collected himself.

“I don’t know what the others told you,” he started softly, “But there was an accident earlier this year.”

Triss hummed, “They mentioned you’d been a bit withdrawn since then, but they didn’t give me any details.”

Eskel sighed, he’d hoped at least Lambert would have told her. Bastard often didn’t know where the line was, but it seemed like this time he’d respected it.

“I took a blade to the face,” he almost burst out, then fell silent. 

“Eskel…” Triss stepped closer until she was within reach to touch him if she wanted.

“It’s not good,” he continued, trying to keep his voice steady as he wanted nothing more than to run, “I was hoping…” he swallowed thickly, the request sticking in his throat. What if she couldn’t do anything, what if she laughed, what if…

His thoughts were interrupted as Triss reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm. “You’re hoping I can fix it?” she asked gently.

Eskel nodded, he couldn’t find any more words, so he grabbed his hood and pulled it down. Squeezing his eyes shut, he waited for Triss’s reaction.

“Oh Eskel,” he could hear the sympathy in her voice. He felt her fingers trace over the wounds, then heard her pull in a breath, “It’s too far healed, there’s nothing I can do.”

He sucked in a deep breath to thank her for even looking, but all that came out was a sob. He tried to pull up the hood but Triss stopped him. He opened his eyes, expecting to see horror on her face, but she was smiling, as soft as ever.

She let go of his hands, and reached up to tuck his dark hair gently behind his ears. Eskel tried to shy back as the full horror of his scars was exposed.

“You’re still so very handsome, wolf,” she spoke softly, as if afraid he would bolt at the slightest noise. It wasn’t far from the truth, and he resisted the urge as her words cut into him.

“Don’t...don’t lie Triss.”

She shook her head, “I know you can smell when someone is lying. Don’t be stubborn.” Her fingers lightly trailed over the scars again, “You’re beautiful, and your scars only add to that. You’ve survived so many things, Eskel, and they’re just proof of it.”

Unable to contain it anymore, a sob burst from his mouth. He dropped to his knees in front of the sorceress. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, letting him rest his head against her waist as he let out the pain of the last few months.


	2. Letho

Eskel waited at the corner table in the local inn. The lighting was poor, but he still kept his hood up as he waited for the other Witcher. It wouldn’t do to get them thrown out before they at least got a meal in them, if not a bath and a good night’s rest.

He’d run across the contract for the archgriffin a few days previous. The alderman had mentioned they thought there might be two, but he wasn’t sure. Eskel had hesitated a bit, taking two archgriffins at the same time would be a rough go for a single witcher.

As he left the alderman’s house, he ran smack into Letho. The viper had heard of the archgriffin contract as well. Since the reward was ample, they decided to tackle the hunt together and split the reward. 

A long drawn out fight later, against two archgriffins, they’d stumbled back to town. Eskel had taken a good clawing on his left shoulder, but was otherwise unharmed. Letho had managed to get away with just a small swipe on his arm. When they’d hit town, the viper pushed Eskel towards the inn.

“Go sit down before you fall down. I’ll deal with getting our payment.”

Eskel grunted, “I’m fine, I don’t need…”

Letho poked a large, meaty finger dangerously close to the wound. The other witcher hissed, pulling back as additional blood trickled down his arm. Smirking, Letho turned on his heel and headed for the alderman’s house, calling over his shoulder that there better be beer for him when he got back.

Eskel had all but collapsed at the table in the corner after he’d ordered beer and food from the innkeep. His hood still up, he stayed in the shadows as what looked like the innkeeper's daughter dropped off their ale and food. Despite the fear Eskel could smell, she managed to smile and leave the meal without any other outwards signs of how terrified she was.

Before Eskel could think too much more on it, Letho dropped into the seat next to him. He pushed a hefty bag of coins to the other witcher.

“Your cut,” he said, before grabbing one of the mugs and downing half of it in one go.

“Thanks,” Eskel slid the bag into his coin pouch and picked up his ale as well.

Letho set down his mug and focused his gaze on his companion.

“What?” Eskel asked, when it became clear the other man wasn’t going to start eating, “You’re going to let your food get cold.”

“Trying to figure out why you’ve still got your damn fool hood up. We’re inside, it ain’t rainin’ and it’s sure as hell not cold in here.”

Eskel snorted, “You fucking well know why.” He turned back to his food, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach that always flared when someone pushed back on his method of coping with the staring.

“No I don’t,” Letho grabbed a bite of food, chewing slowly and regarding the other witcher. He swallowed and hmm’d in a good imitation of Geralt. “You can’t tell me you’re worried about your looks?”

Eskel rolled his eyes, “Do you want me to get us kicked out of here? It’s bad enough we’ve got two witchers, nevermind one that looks like a monster.”

Letho snorted, “Wolf, you’re the furthest thing from.” He reached out to try to grab the hood.

With a growl Eskel ducked out of reach, “Leave it, viper.”

“No,” Letho shook his head, “If these damn fools can’t deal with it, that’s their problem. And ain’t no one going to kick us out of here tonight if I have any say.”

With a quickness belied by his heavy frame, the viper took another grab and caught the hood, pulling it down.

“Letho!” Eskel tried to turn his head, hiding the scarred side in the shadows as best he could. Eyes casting about the room, watching for anyone’s reaction that could indicate they were about to be pushed out.

Letho grabbed the other man by the chin and turned him gently to face him, “There’s nothing wrong with your face, and no one here gives a shit.” He reached out and pushed the hair that had fallen forward back behind Eskel’s ear, rough fingers brushing the scar tissue as they passed.

Eskel shivered and dropped his eyes. He couldn’t take anyone seeing his scars, and he really couldn’t deal with another witcher trying to convince him that they were nothing.

“Wolf,” Letho’s voice was as soft as Eskel had ever heard it, “You’re fucking handsome, and if people can’t see that they’re fucking blind.” he dropped his hand and turned back to his food. 

Eskel sat there for a moment, brain stuck on what Letho had said. He tried to say something a few times but nothing would come.

“Stop trying to come up with something and eat. Then I’ll tend to that wound.”


	3. Dandelion

A particularly rough hunt near Novigrad leaves Eskel with a fair payment for once. Deciding it was worth the risk, he buries himself deep in his cloak to hide his face and heads into the city.

Geralt had mentioned last winter that his bard had somehow managed to inherit a brothel. Dandelion had taken it and turned it into a decent place to take in the local entertainment, get some good food, and be able to secure a relatively clean room. With his years alongside Geralt, the bard also offered a safe haven in Novigrad for any Witcher. They could rest without fear of being turned away or shunned. 

Eskel nudged Scorpion past the guards at the southern gate, and guided him to the stables opposite the inn. Making sure his steed was handed off to a competent stable boy, he grabbed his saddlebags and headed for the front door of the place.

Pushing his way in, he was greeted by boisterous music, the patrons bellowing along with the troubadour currently on stage. Eskel scanned the room from inside his hood, looking for a quiet corner out of the way to sit and relax as much as he could. 

Spotting an unoccupied table in the corner, he placed his bags under the table and waved down one of the servers.

She flowed through the riled up crowd and leaned close. Eskel pulled out a few coins, “Beer, and whatever’s on the menu tonight.” She nodded, pocketing the money and headed for the bar. 

Eskel leaned back, but kept his hood up. Despite this being a relatively safe place for Witchers, he wasn’t keen to expose himself more than he needed too. The scars on his face tended to draw too much attention, people shying away from the permanent sneer they gave him.

With a sigh he closed his eyes as he waited for his food. Before he could do more than take a few deep breaths he felt the air shift next to him as someone sat down. He opened his eyes to tell whoever it was to go, only to be greeted by a smile and cornflower blue eyes.

“Eskel!” Dandelion exclaimed, “It’s good to see you!”

Eskel waved his hand, “Just passing through, I won’t be here long.”

The bard’s face fell a little, “Why not? You look exhausted, why don’t you stay a few days? We’ve got the space,” he reached over, fingers brushing the witcher’s hood, “And take that off, it’s unnerving to talk to you without being able to see you better.”

The witcher shook his head, “Don’t want to scare off your patrons songbird, it’s fine.”

Dandelion gave him a weird look, “Eskel, dear, it can’t be comfortable, please take it off. If anyone has a problem they can fuck off.”

Eskel sighed. Geralt had mentioned on more than one occasion that arguing with the bard was an exercise in futility. He pushed back the hood, letting it fall around his neck. He leaned forward so his hair flopped forward, slightly obscuring his face, “Happy?” he asked.

“Mmm,” Dandelion leaned forward, long fingers stroking along Eskel’s cheek as they gathered his hair, tucking it behind his ears.

Eskel froze, eyes locked on the bard’s. He almost shuddered as Dandelion drew his lute callused fingers back across his cheek, trailing them down his scars.

“Much better,” he murmured, “I agree with Geralt, you’re much too handsome to hide it away under a hood.”

 _Geralt?_ Eskel thought, a flush running through his body, “He probably didn’t set the expectation too high,” was the only thing he could think to say. There was no way Geralt saw him as handsome, not anymore.

“Oh, Eskel,” the bard smiled, pulling his hand back, “Geralt didn’t say much, but he did talk a great deal about you.” He patted Eskel’s hand as the server returned with his food, “Someday he’ll tell you. I’m sure. For now, please stay a few days and rest, I’ll make sure a room is made up for you, with a bath. Enjoy your meal,” with that he stood and melted back into the crowd.

Eskel sat in silence, turning the bard’s words over in his mind. Finally he shook his head, Dandelion was mistaken. He dug into his meal and let the sounds of the Rosemary and Thyme wash over him.


	4. Ciri

As the day wound down, Eskel found himself on the battlements, looking over the valley. They’d spent the day getting the last of preparations ready for the Wild Hunt, and now all they could do was wait. 

Commotion rose from the courtyard, and he looked over to see Geralt and Lambert arguing, probably something to do with their bomb supply. He smiled, watching as Geralt rolled his eyes at the younger wolf. He was leaning back against a low wall as Lambert continued to argue his point. Crossing his arms, he huffed out a reply to whatever the other wolf had said.

Eskel didn’t catch it, he was too busy taking in Geralt. The other witcher had donned simple leather pants, and his loose white top as they worked around the keep, forgoing his armor. His hair was tied up in its normal leather thong, keeping the long white strands out of his face and revealing the undercut he kept short during the summer months. 

Soft amber eyes trailed from the hair to the stubble just coming in on his chin, giving his face a rough appearance that Eskel couldn’t get enough of. He briefly wondered what those bristles would feel like if he kissed him.

The white top was open as always, and slightly damp from the work they’d been doing today, revealing scars and a dusting of hair across his broad chest. At some point he’d pushed the sleeves up to keep them out of the way, leaving his strong forearms bared. 

“You know, you keep that up and he’s going to smell you from all the way down there,” came a musical voice from behind him.

“Mmm,” Eskel spun to face the Ciri, “Nothing to smell, just watching Lambert lose yet another argument.”

“Sure,” she came to stand next to Eskel, leaning against his larger frame. She sighed, “You know, you really should say something. I’ve been watching you dance around him since I was young. He’s not going to pick up on it until you tell him.”

“Leave it be,” he shook his head, “He has sorceresses falling over him left and right, not to mention the bard. He’s surrounded by beautiful companions, who could go with him anywhere, to any town or court and not have to deal with being screamed at for being a monster. Why would he have anything to do with this,” he made a brief gesture towards his face.

“Eskel,” Ciri said, a soft smile on his face, “You know that doesn’t matter to him. It doesn’t matter to any of us. We don’t see your scars like that, they’re part of you and nothing to be ashamed of.”

Eskel huffed, “This coming from the girl that screamed bloody murder the first time she saw me.”

Ciri slapped his arm, “I was young and traumatized. That’s not a good measurement for anything. I’m sure I’d have had the same reaction for any number of witchers. Don’t use it as an excuse.”

“I’m not, Ciri, but I’m also not going to do anything. He’s already got too much on his mind with you and the hunt. I don’t want to distract him with unimportant things,” shrugging he leaned on the battlements and let out a long breath.

“You’re not unimportant, not to me, not to him,” she smiled a little, facing him. Her hand came up, pushing his windblown hair back behind his ear, his breath hitched as she took in his scars. “Much better. You’re still...no, you’ve always been a truly handsome man.”

Eskel closed his eyes, feeling Ciri’s hand rest on his cheek. He couldn’t physically cry, but he still wanted to. 

“Say something, please,” she whispered, voice low enough only a witcher could pick up on it, “We don’t know how this is going to end. He needs to know.”

He wanted to tell Geralt, he truly did, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe that it would be welcomed in any way. No matter what others said he knew any physical attributes he’d once held were long gone, and he couldn’t subject Geralt to trying to deal with being wanted…being loved by a monster. 

He laid his hand on hers, pulling it from his face, “No Ciri, he doesn’t.”


	5. Lambert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a very brief mention of canonical character death in this chapter.
> 
> Edit: I did mean to point out - this chapter does containing Witcher 3 spoilers!

For being the anniversary of one of the darkest days of Eskel’s life, the day had dawned rather spectacularly. The sun burst into the sky, and a light wind blew as he packed up his campsite. Tacking up Scorpion, he swung into the saddle and turned once again to the road. 

There was no hurry on his path today. He knew he was coming up on a smaller settlement, one that probably had contracts, but he wasn’t sure he’d be in the mood to take one. He let Scorpion pick his own pace along the dirt road as he let his mind wander to the past year.

After the battle, after...Vesemir, he’d headed out from the keep. Without the older witcher there was nothing left at Kaer Morhen for him. He’d taken to the path and not looked back. Despite telling Geralt he’d been planning on heading east he’d changed his direction, just in case the other witcher decided to come looking for him.

He’d wintered alone in Redania, a small abandoned home in the wilderness serving as refuge for the cold season. When the snows had finally melted he’d headed off on the Path once again. The year had passed slowly. Contracts had kept him busy, yes, but he sometimes found himself lonely for the companionship of the other wolves. He still couldn’t bring himself to search them out though.

Lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear the hoofbeats of an approaching traveler until they were almost upon him. He pulled Scorpion to the side, not wanting to block someone’s path but the hoofbeats slowed as they got closer.

“Eskel!”

The bigger witcher spun in his saddle to take in the face of the younger wolf.

Lambert pulled his mount, a grey gelding, up alongside Scorpion, “Eskel! Eskel, it’s good to see you!” he exclaimed, “Where the hell have you been?”

Eskel shrugged, “Around.” He urged his mount back on the road, not sure if he was ready for conversation just yet.

“Hey,” Lambert reached out to slap him on the arm, “Don’t take off on me, we’ve been worried about you. You didn’t come winter with us.”

“Winter with you?” Eskel looked at the other man in surprise, “I told Geralt I wasn’t coming back.”

Lambert shook his head, “Not at Kaer Morhen, didn’t you get the message?” 

When Eskel shook his head, a confused expression on his face, Lambert sighed, “Fucking sorceresses, never reliable. Look, let’s get to town and we’ll talk.” He spurred his mount, taking off down the road.

“Last one there buys the beers!” he called back. 

Cursing, Eskel thumped his heels to Scorpion’s flanks and took off after the other witcher.

They thundered into town, Eskel ever so slightly ahead. With a curse, Lambert conceded the race and they found a place to stable their mounts. Lambert chatted with the stable hand to get them directions to the nearest tavern. Meanwhile Eskel pulled his cloak from his saddlebags and donned it, pulling up the hood. He headed outside and waited for the other witcher.

Lambert joined him shortly after, snorting when he saw the cloak, “Really Eskel? Still with the cloak?”

“Shut up,” Eskel muttered, “Lead on, I’m hungry and you owe me a beer or two.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” he turned and led the way through the town until they found the tavern. A small building in the middle of the village hosted it, fading paint around the door frame. They headed inside to find it busy, despite the early hour. Eskel went looking for his customary corner table in the shadows while Lambert went to get food and drink from the barkeep.

He returned shortly after, flopping opposite Eskel at the table with a sigh, “So you didn’t get the message?”

“No.”

“Where did you end up? Geralt said you were heading east, that’s where we sent the message.”

Eskel grimaced, looking away from Lambert.

“You didn’t head east, did you? Dammit Eskel, why?” the other witcher leaned forward, concern on his features.

The bigger witcher shrugged, he wasn’t about to tell Lambert his reasonings.

“Fine, keep your damn secrets,” he paused as the barkeep dropped off their beer and food, “But you better damn well show your face this winter.”

Eskel took a long drag of his beer before responding, “Show my face where?”

Lambert grinned, “Toussaint! Pretty boy got himself a vineyard for doing a contract for the Duchess herself! Big place, lots of wine, lots of pretty girls. It’s not a bad place to winter, even has an alchemy lab. Pretty blast proof too.”

Eskel snorted, “I’m sure you tested its durability,” _and Geralt’s patience_. 

Lambert shrugged, but didn’t deny it.

Eskel smiled and shook his head, the younger witcher would never change, “So, a vineyard? He must be loving that.”

Lambert raised his hand, shaking it side to side, “You’d think, but I’m pretty sure he wishes there was someone else there.”

“Yennefer not speaking to him again?” Eskel muttered, and dug into his meal, good mood gone again. He didn’t want to think about Geralt and the dark haired sorceresses. She’d never been a good thing for him, and he’d thought Geralt had mentioned breaking the compulsion of the djinn.

Lambert gave him a weird look, “No, they’re talking, but…” he sighed, rubbing his temples, “I was talking to the cub, but I didn’t believe her when she said you were being this dense.”

“Ciri wintered with you?” Eskel attempted to change the subject, he didn’t like where Lambert was taking this. He didn’t want to take out those feelings again, he’d spent all winter shoving them down.

“Don’t change the damn subject,” Lambert pointed at him, “He misses you, you big lummox. For reasons I can’t fathom, the great white wolf wants nothing more than to have you with him at his vineyard,” he paused, a wicked grin spreading on his face, “Probably wants you in his bed too.”

Eskel almost spit out his stew, “Fuck off, Lambert. You’re a fucking prick.” He dropped his head, angrily scraping at the food in his bowl.

Silence reigned at the table while they both ate. Eskel too mad to continue the conversation, Lambert watching him closely.

“You know…” Lambert finally started.

“No,” Eskel cut him off, “Stop. I’m not having this conversation again. Drop it.”

“Why?”

“You bloody well know why. He’s Geralt. Like you said, he’s the great white wolf, famed in song and story. He doesn’t need a…” he stopped, furious at himself for letting that much out. 

“He doesn’t need a what?” Lambert prodded. 

Eskel said nothing, clenching his teeth so hard he could feel his jaw creaking. 

“A what, Eskel? What do you think he doesn’t need?”

“A monster, okay?” Eskel ripped back his hood, turning his scars towards his fellow wolf. He heaved a great breath in, then the fight deflated out of him, “He doesn’t need a monster at his side,” he finished quietly. He sank back into his seat, hands going to his hood to draw it back up.

Lambert’s arm shot out, gripping his wrist and preventing him from hiding again.

“Don’t hide,” he said softly, fingers digging into Eskel’s wrist, “Don’t hide, and don’t give this up. You both care about each other. Hell, I’ve had to watch the two of you for ages not say anything, but it’s clear you both want to.”

Lambert sucked in a breath, dropping his hand from the other witcher’s wrist, “Don’t let this go to waste. Don’t miss your chance to do something about this. Don’t make my mistakes.” he finished quietly.

Eskel sat, stunned, “Lambert, who?”

He shook his head, “Doesn’t matter, he’s gone. This is about you and the wolf.”

“But…” Eskel scrubbed his scars nervously.

“No buts,” Lambert leaned forward, pushing Eskel’s hand away. He gently tucked the larger witcher’s hair behind his ear, letting his hand come to rest on the scars. “These don’t make you a monster.”

“Maybe not, but they do make me…”

“I swear Eskel,” the glint of humour was back in Lambert’s eye, “If you say anything other than handsome I will hand you your ass right here.” He withdrew his hand and settled back in his seat.

“Come to Toussaint this winter, please.”

Eskel sighed, “Alright.”


	6. +1 Geralt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild Geralt appears to finally knock some sense into our boy!

The days were starting to take on a decided chill. Frost coated Eskel’s campsites more often than not in the mornings, and Scorpion’s breath was visible as tangible clouds of white. 

Before leaving, Lambert had assured him he was more than welcome at Corvo Bianco this winter. Needed in fact, and that Geralt would welcome him with open arms. The longer Eskel spent on his own, the more he convinced himself it wouldn’t be true. He’d been dragging his feet, finding all manner of reasons not to start the journey south.

“He’s not going to want me there,” he talked to Scorpion as he saddled him up for the day’s journey. He sighed, tightening the girth, “Lambert’s just exaggerating, probably going to get a good laugh when I get there.”

Scorpion turned to push Eskel’s shoulder, huffing at him. The big witcher smiled, “Yeah, you’re right I supposed, Lambert’s a prick, but he’s not mean.” Petting the soft muzzle resting on his shoulder he sighed, mind made up. He mounted up, turned Scorpion south and finally headed for Toussaint. 

After about a week of travel, the mountains gave way to vineyards, and warmer weather despite the lateness of the season. With the heat he’d had to abandon his cloak and the safety of his hood. With one hand on the reins, his other flitted between resting on his thigh, and lifting to his face to scrub at his scars, as if the action could make them vanish.

Despite his scars on full display, Eskel found himself constantly greeted with waves and smiles. Call of ‘ho Witcher!’ echoed from the fields. Clearly Geralt’s constant presence in the area had an even better impact than Dandelion’s ballads over the years.

In almost no time, Eskel found himself under the archway at the entrance to Corvo Bianco. He took in the massive home, the nearby stables and the greenery everywhere. A stream quietly burbled to his right. This place was beautiful.

He urged Scorpion forward, aiming the stallion towards the stables. His hands shook as he dismounted. He stood for a moment, eyes closed, resting his head on Scorpion’s shoulder.

“What am I doing here?” he whispered softly. Scorpion turned to nudge his shoulder with a huff. 

“Master witcher?” came a voice from behind him.

Eskel startled and spun around, he hadn’t heard the man approach. Vesemir would have taken him to task for that.

“Sorry!” the man held out his hands, trying to convey calm, “Didn’t mean to give you a fright, I’m the stablemaster here, I just wanted to know if you’d like me to look after your stallion, sir.”

“Eskel,” he croaked out. He coughed, cleared his throat and tried again, “Name’s Eskel, not sir.” He smiled slightly and pulled Scorpion’s reins over the horse’s head and handed them to the waiting man. 

“He’s a bit feisty,” he started.

The man smiled, holding up a hand to forestall any more, “Seems to be a trait with your horses, master witcher. Master Geralt’s is a right handful as well. Don’t you worry, I’ll take good care of him.” he took the reins gently, clicking to get the stallion to follow him. “The master is out in the south fields, just checking on the harvest, he should be back soon. If you head up to the house the majordomo will make sure you’re looked after. I’ll bring your bags up after your horse is settled.”

“Thank you,” Eskel headed up the curved path to the front entrance. He stood for a moment, gathering himself, and knocked on the door.

It was answered by an elegant man with a rather large ruff. _Must be the majordomo_ Eskel thought.

“Greetings, master witcher,” the man gave a slight bow, then stood back and made a motion that Eskel should enter.

“Oh,” Eskel stuttered a bit, but entered the house. “Just Eskel is fine,” he muttered on the way by, flushing. How did Geralt deal with this all the time? 

“Of course, master witcher,” the man smiled, “I am Barnabas-Basil Foulty, the majordomo, but B.B. is just fine. Make yourself at home, have a seat and I shall fetch some wine.” Before Eskel could object the man bustled off, leaving Eskel still standing in what must serve as the home’s dining area.

A long table dominated the centre of the room, flanked by several chairs. At the far side of the room several racks held armor Geralt had collected over the years. Multiple swords were hung here and there, more relics from the witcher’s days on the Path.

Eskel smiled and shook his head, Geralt never did know when to throw anything out. He’d bet the rest of the house was similar, swords and armor everywhere. There’d probably be a chest in the wheelhouse or stable containing all manner of junk he thought might be useful at some point. 

Too nervous to sit, he wandered a bit further into the room, taking in everything. A small alcove to the right drew his attention, a large painting on the far wall of it depicting Geralt fighting what looked like giant centipedes.

As Eskel inspected the painting closer he heard the front door bang open.

“B.B.!” a familiar voice yelled.

“Master Geralt?” The majordomo appeared from the kitchen, bottle of wine in hand. 

“The workers said…” there was a pause, and Eskel turned to look through the cases to see Geralt bent over, hands on his knees panting. He raised his head, white hair falling out the normal tieback to frame the face that Eskel had missed, “Another witcher had arrived, where…” he continued.

Eskel stepped out from the alcove, “You that out of shape, wolf?” he teased, even as his heart flipped in his chest at seeing Geralt for the first time since they parted after the battle.

Geralt’s head snapped to him, and he found himself caught in that intense golden gaze. There was a growl, and Geralt was stalking across the room towards him.

He swallowed hard as the other man stopped inches in front of him. The gaze took time to sweep over his body, checking for what, he didn’t know.

“Geralt?” 

“You’re okay,” the white haired witcher breathed out.

Eskel shrugged, “Yeah wolf, I’m fine.”

“You didn’t come last winter, I thought…” he trailed off, dropping his eyes.

“Not going down just yet, Lambert mentioned you were okay with us…”

“Lambert?” Geralt’s eyes snapped back to his, “You talked to Lambert?”

Eskel tilted his head, “Yeah, ran into him earlier this year, didn’t he tell you? Filled me in on this place, seems like the message you sent last year didn’t make it to me,” he didn’t add that he hadn’t been in the right place, trying to escape everything. 

“No,” Geralt shook his head, “No I haven’t heard from Lambert since he took off this spring.” 

Before he could say anything, Eskel found himself with an armful of shaking witcher. He instinctively wrapped his arms around him, holding him close.

“Geralt?” 

He shuddered as Geralt turned his head, burying his nose in Eskel’s neck, “It’s been almost two years Eskel, I thought…” he paused.

“I’m fine, wolf. Nothing got me, just…”

“No,” Geralt cut in, then stopped. Letting out a huge sigh, “I thought I’d never get a chance, that I’d missed my chance.” 

Eskel didn’t say anything, just tightened his arms a bit. Hope flared in his chest. 

Geralt pushed back a bit, so Eskel could see his face, “Eskel, I should have said this a long time ago. Should have done this a long time ago.”

He leaned forward, lips mere inches from Eskel’s, breath brushing across his cheek. His own breath coming quicker, Eskel could feel the flush trying to crawl up his neck. Everything he wanted was right in front of him, his heart twisted, insecurities flaring. He pulled back, putting space between the two of them.

He felt his gut twist as Geralt’s face fell, and he hurried to explain, “Wolf, I…” the words wouldn’t come though.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt spoke softly, “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Eskel felt the moment slipping through his fingers. His desire for Geralt warring with his own shitty self image. The twisting in his gut sent actual pains to his chest. He swallowed hard, and steeled himself. He needed to fix this now, or whatever was happening between them would be gone.

“Geralt, don’t misunderstand, please. I do want this, more than anything else,” he reached out and grabbed his hand, holding him from leaving while he tried to find his words.

“Then why?” Golden eyes searched his face, looking for answers.

Eskel closed his eyes, dropping his head, unable to process the gaze of the man spilling his heart out across from him, “I want this, but are you sure you do?” the words came out almost inaudible.

“Eskel?” confusion coloured the other man’s voice, “Of course I do, what…?”

Unconsciously, Eskel’s hand came up to scrub nervously at his scars.

A pained whine echoed in the room, and it took Eskel a minute to realize it hadn’t come from him. Long, sword calloused fingers gently curled under his chin and tilted his head back up.

“Eskel, please look at me,” Geralt gently demanded.

With a shuddering breath, Eskel opened his eyes. Earnest golden eyes greeted him. Fingers trailed from his chin to tangle in the dark strands hanging across his cheek. With a slow motion, they pushed the strands back, tucking them behind his ear.

“Your scars don’t make you anything less. You’re simply the man I love. You’re gorgeous to me.”

With a sob, Eskel surged forward, pressing his lips to Geralt’s. 

As their hands tangled in each other’s hair, as the kiss deepened, as relief flooded through him, Eskel finally started to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally done! I think this is officially the longest thing I've ever written on here and finished! I hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> Thanks to everyone that commented and kudos'ed along the way. You guys kept me going <3

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on Twitter or Tumblr where I basically just yell about Eskel all the time these days.
> 
> Sometimes I draw.
> 
> [Tumblr - justhereforeskel](https://justhereforeskel.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter - LittleNelielArt](https://twitter.com/LittleNelielArt)


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